Chapter 12

Robin Buckley had been gushing for Vickie for what felt like ten minutes, and she crashed her back softly against the Family Video's illuminated movie poster display with a sigh of defeat.

"I'm hopeless," She proclaimed.

Steve rested softly beside her and crossed his arms over his chest thoughtfully. Robin noticed he had grown more contemplative and thoughtful since last summer; they're time with the Russians was something they didn't talk about, but it had matured Steve. He was more regarded, more mature and controlled versus his old, arrogant and aloof self.

And it had done nothing but make Steve more attractive.

Steve Harrington had all of the swagger and umph Robin felt she lacked. She often wondered if she would ever gain it and feel comfortable in her own skin– tough and a little rough around the edges, an Ally Sheedy to Vickie's Molly Ringwald.

She looked Steve over, studying him, hoping to absorb some of his natural masculine essence by observation. She often thought that she could learn to be like him, and it would help her learn how to talk to girls. That had yet to yield any results though.

Plus, he was nice to look at. Robin would study his feminine like features he had– his soft jaw, the fluffiness of his hair, and she would sometimes get lost in his lips and forget they were a boy's– they were so plush and the softest shade of wet pink.

Robin smirked at Steve. "If only we could just, like, combine." She interlocked her fingers together.

A look of confusion crossed Steve's face for a flash of a second and then a quirk of annoyance. It was flirtatious, in a way, and Robin was sure it drove the ladies nuts. "Combine?" He asked, with a slight arch to his eyebrows.

"No." She looked down with a soft shake of her head. She hadn't meant to make a suggestive implication. She had a habit of doing that and it left her reeling, quicking to try to rectify her misspeak. "Think about it. I know exactly what I want, and I've found the girl of my dreams, but I just can't get the courage to ask her out." Steve was nodding along as she continued, "Meanwhile, you go on, like, a million dates and you have no idea what you want."

He made a face of disappointment, shrugged, and nodded in sad agreement; his eyes flicked to look over at her. "Mhmm." His face was falling faintly.

"So, if we just combine…" As Robin explained, Steve gave a small gasp of understanding, and Robin claimed, "all of our problems will be solved!

"Because, I mean, alone, let's face it…"

"We totally suck." Steve smirked over at her then, and Robin smiled softly. They looked at each other in the eyes for a brief moment- equal heights, equal distance apart.

"Totally and utterly." She spoke.

They both looked out over the store floor with faint smiles painted on their tired faces.

It was a slow morning, and they still hadn't decided on a movie to watch for the day.

Robin scanned the shelves with her eyes quickly and landed on one across the room. "Ooh, I think I found our morning movie." She jogged over and grabbed a copy of "Doctor Zhivago!" She announced and displayed it like a treasured plaque.

"Ugh," Steve gave a gag. "You know I don't do double VHS." He was headed towards her with a big fan of his arms, like he was batting away her terrible suggestion.

"But it's about doomed love!" Robin protested.

"Oh, well, that's relatable." Steve muttered and began to push the movie cart forward.

"Precisely," Robin smiled widely and moved to put the first tape in. "Also, Julie Christie is b-b-bonkers hot in this. Like seriously the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life." She turned on the chunky television set up behind the cash registers.

The news was on, mid-broadcast, with a large "breaking news!" banner scrolling boldly along the top.

"We're here in the Forest Hills Trailer Park in East Roane County. We don't have a lot of details now, but we can confirm this: the discovery of a Hawkins High student, as well as a suspected kidnapping, were reported early this morning. Police have not yet released the victims' names, although we are told they're currently in the process of notifying the families…"

"Holy shit." Robin and Steve breathed together.

"...occurred here is sure to touch a nerve across the community of Hawkins, which is still reeling from last year's devastating mall fire. Over 30 innocents…" Meanwhile, in Benny's Burgers abandoned burger joint, the basketball team recovered from their hangover and the Hawkins news broadcast continued.

"Hey, maybe Chrissy didn't stand you up after all," Chance chuckled.

Patrick raised his hands up to the blond boy across from him in a "c'mon" gesture. "Dude, don't joke about that."

Jason Carver made his way to the window and thought about his girlfriend.

He had been pissed that Chrissy didn't come to the party and he was still feeling a distant rage towards her. Sure, she was packing with her mom– or whatever. But she was his girlfriend and they had won the game. He was expecting to score in more ways than just basketball, and her not coming had made that a difficult feat to accomplish.

Not that her not coming stopped that from happening. He had hooked up with Rebecca Starley, the busty redhead from his home economics class, relatively with ease. She had had a lot to drink and had been dancing on tabletops and the team was well plastered by the time Jason had lured her into his room– the old office of Benny, complete with a big oak desk, a rusted rolling chair, and stacks of messy bookkeeping– for a blow job. He doubted anyone would even believe it if she had talked about it. Chrissy wouldn't find out.

He took a thoughtful bite of his cheerios. He should stop by her house before she leaves on her trip.

Just as Jason was going to step back to head home and freshen up, two police cruisers pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

A fluttery feeling of dread and panic boiled into Jason's belly, and he swallowed hard, set down his bowl and turned around– all captain, cool, calm, collected.

In a steady, firm voice he commanded, "Get the beer out of here and empty the ashtrays. If there's no evidence, they can't get us for anything." He gave a swift motion around the room, indicating for Chance and Patrick to begin cleaning up.

"Jason, I don't think–" Patrick said, warily, but Chance's eyes were wide, he jumped up with a loud, "Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" and began hurriedly grabbing cans.

Jason began to walk to the front door to meet the cops, past the bathroom. Sinclair was groaning.

He turned around to face Patrick, eyes fierce as daggers, scary as a tiger's glare. "Who got him this trashed? Get him the hell out of here. He's way too young to be here."

The officers had sat Jason down in Benny's old office, where they told him that Fred Benson was found just outside of Forest Hills Trailer Park an hour before, a few blocks away, and based on the wounds inflicted, they suspected some kind of Satanic ritual.

The police department had a record of complaints regarding Eddie Munson's alleged involvement with Satanic gang activity in the past, so they searched his trailer as a first lead, where they found demonic journals depicting sick rituals of a character named Vecna, and Chrissy Cunningham's tennis shoes.

After confirming with her mother, they learned she had not returned home the previous evening and was following the assumed places she may be.

"So, did she show up here last night?" Officer Daniels asked.

"No," Jason said with seething rage beginning to grow under his skin. He could feel his blood becoming a soft boil beneath his pores and he clenched his jaw tightly. "She didn't show last night."

The officers shared a look between one another, and Callahan gave a soft nod.

"Do you know why Chrissy Cunningham may have been with Eddie Munson last night, or how he may have known Fred Benson?"

Jason worked hard for a moment to relax his jaw and sculpt an image of collectiveness on his face. "No, officers, I have no idea why my girlfriend would be at that freak, Munson's, and I have no clue who Fred Benson is or what he may want with the freak."

"Do you know where Chrissy may be now?"

"No."

Callahan wrote something down quickly on the small yellow pad of paper he held in his hand and pocketed it quickly.

"And Chrissy never mentioned anything to you about Eddie? Whether about Dungeons and Dragons or drugs, nothing at all?"

With a soft shake of his head no and a forced friendly chortle, Jason said, "I'm a man of the lord, sir. I'd never be involved in something evil like that."

The officers stood, thanked Jason for his time, and quietly left the restaurant.

No search of the building was done, and Chance was still uselessly gathering cans in the back rooms.

Jason sat and stared at the heavy oak desk before him for a long moment.

What the hell would Chrissy be doing with Freak Munson?

She absolutely wouldn't be buying drugs, and he couldn't recall a time she had ever talked to Eddie Munson, let alone been in the same room alone with him.

Immediately, Jason's imagination and jealousy flared like a flash fire.

Was she cheating on him? No. He wouldn't accept that. No one cheated on Jason Carver, and besides, Chrissy wasn't like that. His Chrissy was a good girl.

He slammed his knuckles into the hard wood desktop and split the skin on his knuckles and yelled loudly into the small space of the office.

Jason pushed open the door and was practically sprinting through the kitchen to the main room, where the rest of his teammates were before he stopped himself. He racked his fingers shakily through his hair and steeled his expression. He had nearly forgotten to regain his composure.

With a deep inhale of breath, Jason steadied himself and pushed the double doors open from the kitchen and made his way to his faithful followers.

"He took Chrissy," he said, loudly, commanding attention over his troops. "The Freak's kidnapped my Chrissy and he's going to sacrifice her if we don't find her quick."

He watched as the expressions of his lackeys grew from worry to confusion and then, finally, to understanding. The hormonal teenagers chattered excitedly amongst each other, and a spark of anger began to spread through them like a sickness.

"Munson's a freak–"

"I'm not surprised–"

"Fucking creep–"

"How dare he come after one of ours?"

"We'll kill him."

As a united force, the boys made their way to their cars to drive into town and rally the citizens of Hawkins- to save Chrissy and hunt the freak.

Jason was gripping the steering wheel tightly and he was already thinking of the brutal ways he would torture Eddie Munson.

He'd make him regret ever coming after something that belonged to Jason Michael Carver.

"We also don't know if foul play was involved. But whatever occurred here is sure to touch a nerve across Hawkins…"

Seninor Nancy Wheeler looked at the empty spot beside her in the senior journalist club's meeting room. Fred hadn't shown up that morning and she had jested with Bethany Jones just a few moments earlier about his ruined perfect attendance, but following the broadcast, she began to feel worried.

"Things just haven't been the same here since that Barb girl died. If it's not one thing, it's another. I'll tell ya, with everything going on, you really start to believe what they say about this town, that it's cursed… that the devil lives here in Hawkins… " The interviewee on the news broadcast complained.

With the mention of Barb, Nancy felt the wound of her grief open like a fresh cut. She normally did a good job of keeping the depression and survival guilt at bay, but seeing Barb's class photograph flash on screen and seeing the empty spot of Fred Benson in class, her skin prickled with paranoia. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

She wished Jonathan were here.

She wondered if it were too late to get him a ticket to Hawkins, or if he'd be willing to come help her and felt a pang of doubt. She didn't like feeling doubt about Jonathan, and that was a familiar growing feeling.

Fred wasn't here either.

With a decided lift of her chin, Nancy grabbed her bags and a tape recorder and hastily made her way to the exit of the high school, set to begin investigating on her own.

"Many of the residents we spoke to voiced their concerns to us: grief, shock, anger, disbelief. Everyone wants to know the same thing: how can so many tragedies befall a once-peaceful town? All eyes are now on the police for answers. Is the new chief of police, Powell, in over his head? Or is he the very savior this town needs?

"We'll be here the rest of the day right here on channel nine, where we'll keep you posted on all the latest developments. In the meantime, we recommend you keep your doors and windows locked tight, and to please come forward to the police if you have any information regarding the case.

"This is Beverly Moss, signing off for…"

Dustin was sitting on the couch with his mom and their new cat Mews II, who was crying softly to herself and cradling the siamese. "My heart just can't take it anymore. It just can't take it, Dusty…"

The doorbell rang then and Dustin had to work to make his feet move..

He was the man of the house.

It didn't matter that there was a crisis afoot, or that he had noticed the trailer behind the camera crew. It didn't matter that dread was growing like a plague in his body, attacking his system. Would another Dart be at his doorstep, ready to threaten him and his mother and eat his new cat? Would it be the Russians, finally coming to his house after Steve had outed his name?

He swallowed hard and stood to answer the door.

Max Mayfield stood on his doorstop. He hadn't seen her since last Fall, when she and Lucas had finally called it quits, and now he had seen her twice in the past two days. He noted the coincidence with a quizzical observation.

Her red hair frazzled and tangled and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were wide, panicked mirrors shining back the same emotion Dustin was fighting to keep controlled. It got harder to stay calm when he saw his friend with the same look of fear on her freckled face.

"Can I come in?" She asked, breathing hard, like she was gasping for air.

Dustin nodded curtly and held the door open for her. "Go to my room. We can talk there."